They slipped back into the castle and went to their separate quarters to prepare for the next day's activities. That night at supper, Bran baited and set the snare to catch Wolf Hugh.

Ah, there you are!" cried Earl Hugh as his Spanish guests trooped into the hall. With him at the table were several of his courtiers, six or seven of the women he kept, and, new to the proceedings, five Ffreinc noblemen the others had not seen before-large looming, well-fleshed Normans of dour demeanour. Judging from the cut and weave of their short red woollen cloaks, white linen tunics and fine leather boots, curled hair and clean-shaven faces, they were more than likely fresh off the boat from France. Their smiles were tight-almost grimaces-and their eyes kept roaming around the hall as if they could not quite credit their surroundings. Indeed, they gave every appearance of men who had awakened from a pleasant dream to find themselves not in paradise, but in perdition.

"Here's trouble," whispered Bran through his smile. "Not one Norman to fleece, but five more as well. We may have to hold off for tonight."

"No doubt you know best," Tuck said softly; and even as he spoke, an idea sprang full-bloomed into his round Saxon head. "Yet, here may be a godsend staring us dead in the eye."

"What do you see?" Bran said, still smiling at the Ffreinc, who were watching from their places at the board. He motioned Alan and the others to continue on, saying, "Keep your wits about you, everyone-especially you, Alan. Remember, this is why we came." Turning once more to Tuck, he said, "Speak it out, and be quick. What is it?"

"It just came to me that this is like John the Baptiser in Herod's pit."

Bran's mouth turned down in an expression of exasperated incomprehension. "We don't have time for a sermon just now, Friar. If you have something to say-"

"King Gruffydd is John," Tuck whispered. "And Earl Hugh is Herod."

"And who am I, then?"

"It is obvious, is it not?"

"Not to me," Bran muttered. He gestured to the earl as if to beg a moment's grace so that he might confer a little longer.

"Lord bless you." Tuck sighed. "Do you never pay attention when the Holy Writ is read out? Still, I'd have thought some smattering of the tale would have stuck by you."

"Tuck! Tell me quick or shut up," Bran rasped in a strained whisper. "We're being watched."

"You're Solome, of course."

"Refresh my memory."

"The dancing girl!"

Bran gave him a frustrated glare and turned away once more. "Just you be on your guard."

The two approached the board where the earl and his noble visitors were waiting. Alan, standing ready, smiled broadly for the Normans and made an elaborate bow. "My lords, I give you greetings in the name of Count Rexindo of Spain"-he paused so that Bran might make his own gesture of greeting to the assembled lords-"and with him, Lord Galindo and Lord Ramiero"-he paused again as the two young Welshmen bowed-"and Father Balthus, Bishop of Pamplona." Tuck stepped forward and, thinking it appropriate, made the sign of the cross over the table.

"Welcome, friends!" bellowed Earl Hugh, already deeply into his cups. "Sit! Sit and drink with us. Tonight, we are celebrating my good fortune! My lords here"-he gestured vaguely at the five newcomers-"bring word from Normandie, that my brother has died and his estates have passed to me. I am to be a baron. Baron d'Avranches-think of that, eh!"

"My sympathies for the loss of your brother," replied the count.

"He was a rascal and won't be missed or mourned," sniffed the earl. "But he leaves me the family estates, for which I am grateful."

"A fine excuse for a drink, then," remarked Count Rexindo through his able interpreter. "I can think of none better than sudden and unexpected wealth." Bran sent up a silent prayer that none of the earl's new guests could speak Spanish and took his place on the nearest bench; the rest of his company filled in around him. Two of the women-one of whom had been openly preening for the count's attention ever since he stepped across the threshold-brought a jar and some cups. She placed these before Bran, and then bent near to fill them-bending lower and nearer than strictly necessary. The count smiled at her obvious attentions, and gave her a wink for her effort. Such blatant flirtation was shameless as it was bold. But then, Tuck reflected, shame was certainly an oddity in Earl Hugh d'Avranches's court, and quite possibly unknown. Nevertheless, as Bishop Balthus, Tuck felt he should give the brazen woman a stiff frown to show his clerical displeasure; he did so and marked that it did nothing to chasten her. Nor did it prevent her from insinuating herself between him and the handsome count. Oh well, thought Tuck as he slid aside to make room for her, with a toothsome prize in sight folk are blind to all they should beware of-and that has been true since Adam first tasted apple juice.

The jars went round and round, filling cups and bowls and goblets, and then filling them again. Earl Hugh, in a high and happy mood, called a feast to be laid for this impromptu celebration of his windfall of good fortune. His musicians were summoned, and as the kitchen servants began laying a meal of roast venison on the haunch, loaves of bread, rounds of cheese, and bowls of boiled greens, a gang of rowdy minstrels entered the hall and commenced perpetrating the most awful screech and clatter, pushing an already boisterous gathering into a barely restrained chaos. Tuck viewed the convivial tumult as a very godsend, for it offered a mighty distraction to lull suspicious minds. He glanced around the board at his nearest companions: Alan seemed to be watching the roister in an agony of want as jar after jar passed him by. Yet, Lord bless him, he resisted the temptation to down as many as might be poured, and contented himself with coddling his one small cup; Ifor and Brocmael, true to their duty, resisted the temptation to indulge and passed the jars along without adding anything to their cups.

Bran, as Count Rexindo, on the other hand became more expansive and jolly as the evening drew on. He not only filled his own cup liberally, but was seen to fill others' as well-including those of the earl and the hovering women. Engaging the visiting Norman lords in loud conversation about hunting and fighting and the like-with the aid of Alan's ready tongue-he drew them out of their stony shells and coaxed a laugh a time or two. Therefore, no one was the least surprised when he rose from his seat and hoisted his cup high and announced, again through Alan, "I drink to our esteemed and honoured host! Who is with me?"

Of course, everyone stood with him then-as who would not?- and raised their cups, shouting, "Attente! Attente!"

The Spanish count tipped down a great draught of wine, wiped his mouth, and said, speaking loudly and with some little passion, "My friends and I have enjoyed our sojourn here in your realm, my lord earl. Your hospitality is as expansive as your girth-"

The earl looked puzzled as this was spoken, and Alan quickly corrected the count's meaning, saying, "-generosity… as expansive as your generosity, my lord. Please excuse my poor translation. He means your hospitality is as great as your generosity."

"It is nothing," replied Earl Hugh grandly. "Nothing at all!"

"I must beg your pardon, my good earl," replied Count Rexindo a little blearily, "but it is not nothing to me. In Spain, where all the virtues are accorded great regard, none sits higher in our esteem than the welcome given to kin and countrymen, and the strangers in our midst." His words came across a little slurred through the wine, though Alan cleaned them up. "As one who knows something of this, I can say with all confidence that your hospitality is worthy of its great renown." He lifted his cup once more. "I drink to you, most worthy and esti… estimable lord."